Life begins at 40.
So if this is 40, why do I feel like I’m at the beginning of the end?
What my mama said
My mum was 39 years old when she had me. These days that’s not considered old to be having children but, as a little girl, I was consumed with thoughts that she was older than all the other mums. Other kids would assume she was my grandma and it upset me so much. To be fair, I was a little whoopsie, a happy mistake my parents made whilst holidaying in Madeira apparently. Not unwanted by any means but definitely not planned.
I used to obsess with Mum’s age and would constantly ask her if she was going to die. She’d laugh it off and would tell me that she didn’t feel any different to when she was in her 20s.
Growing up, I couldn’t ever imagine being the age my mum was when she had me yet here I was. And I know exactly what she means. I don’t feel 40. But I look in the mirror and the person looking back at me isn’t the fresh faced vibrant me in my 20s. It’s a rather tired looking human whose eyebrows need some serious attention. One whose skin is suffering from irreparable sunbed damage from the 1990s. I used to slather myself in baby oil the minute the sun came out and douse my hair in Sun-in. I wish I’d taken skin care more seriously back then. Don’t we all?
The Game of Life!
There are moments where I genuinely don’t really feel like an adult. Seriously, I just feel like I’m playing the game of life. Almost like I’m going to get called out at any moment, ‘the game’s up kid, you don’t really have to concern yourself with a personal tax return.’
I’ve got an accountant so I must be an adult. Right?
My kids think I’m a grown up. Fools! I have cheese more mature in my fridge.
What now?
Where do I go from here? I had a successful career before I met and married the man of my life. I had 2 healthy children and don’t plan on having any more of those. So what now? I’ll be honest, I’m just a bit bloody tired from it all now.
In fact, I’m sooooooo tired and drained. I rarely make it past 9.30pm these days. I spend the day full of excitement about whatever Netflix series we are binging and I get all snuggled in ready to enjoy. Next minute, I’m snoring away like a little pig and I never see the end of anything. I’m almost excited to retire just so I don’t have to move so much. Sometimes I fantasise about the care home. I quite like jelly and imagine being wheeled to a window as I take my final breaths gazing out to the sea. Which walking corpses will become by end of life buddies? What sort of mischief I could cause with my zimmer frame.
A life less ordinary
I realise the life we are living at the moment is far from the ordinary.
My god I’ve had to dig deep this past year. I imagine we all have. Luckily I never really loved being out too late. Or being out at all sometimes. There was always an ongoing joke with my work mates that you could go out with me on an evening and arrange to meet another friend later as I was always set on getting home before 10pm.
I miss carefree browsing in the shops on a Saturday morning. That was my self care time. It’s not at all fun with a face muzzle terrified of being sneezed upon by anyone who dare enter your 2 metre restricted zone. It’s not all bad. We get to spend more time with our family. SO much time with our family. You can almost have too much of a good thing. Am I being sarcastic? You’d have to ask my husband to know for sure.
It makes sense now this is 40
Life for me at the moment is focused predominantly on the children and despite being tired, I’m content. And that, my friends, was my lightbulb moment. This. Is. 40. I am content. I’ve sailed the seas of my 20s, gained more wisdom in my 30s and now I’m here. It’s time to stop thinking about care home jelly and focus on being fearless, fierce, focused and free! This is 40!
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